Connections
by mav32
Summary: A series of tags for various episodes. Tag 3: 6x06 "I have a spare room. It's not up for discussion." Sheldon Hawkes and Mac Taylor as roommates. I always wondered how that worked out.
1. Life Sentence 7x21

A/N: So I've recently found and become obsessed with CSI: NY. This isn't the only NY fic on my computer right now, but it is the first one I'm throwing out there. I'll add onto this with more various tags, fillers and missing scenes from other episodes. I'm open to suggestions as well, but I'll mostly focus on Mac. I'm definitely a hurt/comfort fan, but can certainly do more if you so wish. This particular tag is for 7x21 Life Sentence. Mac gets a pep talk from an old friend.

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><p>He heard the sound and somewhere deep down, his subconscious knew his cell was going off. Unfortunately the mottled mess that was his brain prevented it from reaching the upper levels of consciousness to let him know.<p>

He was on autopilot and only barely beginning to realize it. It had happened before. He'd be walking into his office only to realize that sometime between cursing the single digit numbers on his alarm clock and ending up at the lab, he must have gotten dressed and driven to work- only he had little or no memory of it actually happening.

He was sure there was some psychological explanation, but he didn't care. Thinking was almost worse than being on autopilot- and there's that darned psychology. Rearing its head whether he wanted it to or not- and he never did.

As the thought process smothered the autopilot into submission, he suddenly realized his new surroundings. He was carrying his suit jacket and his shirt was un-tucked. He was a few blocks from the precinct…but why? Oh, right… He wished his mind would go blank again. Of course, it did the opposite.

The phone cut through his thoughts again. He really needed to change that ring-tone. The ominous tune made him dread every incoming call. It was probably Flack, asking where the hell he was and what he was thinking, walking away from a crime scene, especially this one. At least he could honestly answer "nothing".

"Taylor." He responded automatically.

"Mac, where in the _hell_ are you?" Right words, wrong person.

"New York." He answered slowly, his brain obviously not quite up to speed yet.

There was an impatient huff on the other end of the line. "Yes, I figured, and for me, that would be enough information, but right now, that's about all Don knows too, and he's standing at the scene of your wrecked car with two bodies, you're not there and you haven't been answering your phone for the last 10 minutes."

He didn't say anything. What was he supposed to say?

"Mac, are you alright?" The tone had switched from pissed to concerned, but the impatience remained. The anger had only been a cover anyways. It usually did the trick in revealing his state of mind, and his non-response had spoken volumes.

"Yeah, airbags." He responded absently, suddenly realizing how much his head hurt.

Another sigh. She was probably shaking her head. He'd never answered that question truthfully before. Why start now? She couldn't even give him that look to make him cave and at least shell out a half-truth. "Call Flack. Tell him where you are. He's ready to call for another search."

"Okay."

"Right now. And then you're going to call me right back. Promise."

"Okay." Autopilot had started to take over again. Between his pounding head and racing thoughts he was more than grateful for it. He obediently ended the call and pressed the number that would speed dial Flack.

"Mac!" Aside from being a male voice this time, the tone was identical.

"I'll meet you at the precinct." He replied, cutting off the detective before the conversation would repeat itself as well. Thankfully, Don wasn't one to push things.

"I'll be there in ten minutes." Flack immediately responded before the line went dead.

He almost stuck the phone back into his pocket, but remembered he had _promised_. Walking away from a crime scene was stupid. He didn't need anyone to tell him that. He didn't even know why he'd done it. His pounding head and lapse of memory probably had something to do with it, in which case it was out of his hands and a lecture would be pointless. Despite that, some part of him needed to talk to her. He wasn't sure why as the last thing he wanted was to delve into his emotional state. Perhaps he just wanted to talk to someone outside his current situation. Not that she was the best person for that, she had clearly been talking to Flack and probably Lindsay about what had been going on all week. Still... Letting out a long breath and steeling himself for the inevitable tirade, he dialed the number for Stella Bonasera. The first ring wasn't halfway through assaulting his ear-drum before she picked up.

"You called him?"

"Yes."

"Good." There was a pause. Her tone melted again, almost pleading this time. "What were you thinking, Mac?"

He was surprised when he found himself laughing. He shook his head, but couldn't wipe the almost maniacal smile from his face. "Nothing." He almost started laughing again.

"What is wrong with you?" She sounded so convinced something actually was. Was there? She probably knew more than he did at this point.

The bright lights of the precinct sign suddenly burned his eyes as he drew near, immediately sobering him. He looked at the officers racing up and down the steps and opted for the back door. He sat down on the steps in the quiet, dark alley and closed his eyes. "I wasn't thinking, Stella." He explained.

"Clearly! Here I am, ready to have our weekly chat and instead I'm reading a police bulletin calling for your location because a psycho killer is after you. Flack can't assure me that you're okay because, guess what? You've abandoned the scene!"

"I gave a statement…" He wasn't sure why he was still defending himself. This wasn't exactly the conversation he thought he needed.

"Yeah, it was three words. 'Body's over there.' Flack says you handed over your weapon, but as soon as he turned to check on Harris, you were gone."

"I'm sorry." He muttered, slightly exasperated.

"Tell it to Flack. Hopefully you don't have to tell it to the chief too."

Yeah, this really wasn't the conversation he needed. "Don't give me that." He suddenly snapped. "I'm not one of your employees down there."

"And thank goodness for that, because I'd probably have you fired." She stated matter-of-factly. He shook his head in disbelief. She was baiting him on purpose. Another tactic. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing it had worked. Yes, leaving a scene was grounds for some serious action, whether he meant to do it or not...

"You asked _me_ to call _you._ Why?"

"Because this is not the only time you've done something stupid, Mac."

"Remind me of the time I called myself perfect." He scoffed.

"Shut up and listen." He did so in reflex. "You've been throwing yourself into cases like I haven't seen in years- I still have friends in the lab." She offered as explanation when he opened his mouth to ask how she could possibly assume that. "You went into a dangerous situation without backup and ended up taking a bullet, you went after the chief, you got kidnapped, and now this? And that's just in the year I've been gone."

"Getting abducted was not my fault." A weak defense, but it was all he had.

"You made yourself a target when you got too involved."

He rolled his eyes. "You're straining at gnats."

"And _you_ are gonna get yourself killed." He heard something else in her voice now. More than concern... He hadn't really considered how she might be feeling on her end. Apparently it was upsetting her more than it was him.

He hesitated before speaking again. "Where is this coming from?"

"You realize what gets you in trouble, right?" Stella asked calmly.

"Criminals?" He shrugged.

"Doing things _alone_, Mac. I don't know if you noticed, but your years-long self-destructive rampage only started to subside after you started making friends with the lab techs and detectives. You trusted people, took some of the work load off yourself… But every time you went back into that damned mindset you were in trouble again. Dobson, Andy, the bank heist, after Danny got shot…"

He sighed heavily. "Okay, I get it. You want me to tell you what's going on, because that's going to make it all better." It came out more sarcastic than he meant it to.

"Mac-."

"I don't know, Stella. The whole thing, it just-…" He grabbed a fistful of hair and squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden unexpected and constricting feeling in his chest. She waited patiently for him to go on. Damn, she was good. Everything was there... his scrambled brain just couldn't put it together. He opted to start off with something he knew he could put into words. "I guess I know how Don felt…turning in his training officer."

"Harder than you thought?"

"Turning him in was the easy part. He killed a woman. How could I not know? I should have seen the bag. The missing money, it was obvious-." And she already had him rambling. She knew him far too well.

"Mac. You were brand-new on the force. There's no way you would have even thought to look for something like that. You're supposed to trust your T.O."

"It almost got my team killed. Three lab techs are in the hospital. Lindsay was right there, she could have easily been-." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"What's really bugging you here, Mac?" Stella asked after a minute of silence.

There was only a brief pause before he went on. _This_ is why he had needed to speak to her. She knew. "It makes no difference, what I do. Does it? That's the catch about everything being connected. You're never the only variable. I'm getting real tired of it."

"You're looking at it the wrong way. Remember when I said you wouldn't be as good at this job without me?"

"You gloating?" He smirked tiredly.

"Hey, I was right that you would keep doing the job, correct?" He heard the smile in her voice. "I didn't mean you'd get stupid, Taylor. I meant you would stop accepting help. Your team, Mac. You can look at that connection as a liability or a risk, but they don't. I know you usually don't, but then something like this comes up and suddenly you're that one-man army again and the only way to get through to you is like this- beating you into submission. After you get over being pissed off, you appreciate it. It's the only reason you haven't hung up by now, but I'm in New Orleans. Surely there's someone closer than me with the guts to stand up to you."

He smiled. "Jo forced me off a scene a couple days ago. Planned the whole thing. Asked Don to drive me home. Never made it there…" He rubbed his eyes tiredly. His head was still pounding. "Never did sleep either…"

"I think I'd like this Jo."

"Yeah, you'd get along great. She tried to warn me about going after the chief… tried to get me checked out after getting kidnapped…" He laughed. "Tried to tell me to get married."

"You should listen to this woman. She sounds wise." Stella grinned. Then there was a pause. "Why don't you?"

He pressed the heal of his hand into his forehead. "What?"

"Why don't you listen to her?"

"I do…just…"

"Not when it comes to you." She finished knowingly. "I know you miss me, Mac, but you need to move on."

He could only muster a breathy chuckle. "Don't give yourself so much credit. I never listened to you either."

"Well, maybe it's about time you started listening to _someone_. You know, women like men who listen and obey."

"What exactly are you suggesting?"

"Nothing, though you brought it up, so it must be on your mind. You like her?"

"My head hurts…"

There was another pause. "That an excuse or the truth?"

"Both."

"Mac!"

The sudden voice echoing around the alley caused him to jerk his head up, sending a shooting pain down his neck. He grimaced as Flack approached.

"That Stella?" Don asked, noticing the phone.

"That Don?" Stella asked.

"Yeah." He answered simply for the benefit of both parties.

"Tell her I'll give her a call in a couple hours. Jo's in the car. She says we're taking you to the hospital, end of conversation."

"Marry her, Mac." Stella said, clearly having heard what Don said.

"Bye, Stella." He ended the call, cutting off Stella's laughter.

"I'm going to assume she gave you a good talking to already." Don said, looking down at Mac and taking in his disheveled appearance.

"And more." He muttered.

"Can I at least ask what possessed you to walk off?"

"Concussion." Mac shrugged.

Don held out his hand to help Mac to his feet. "Oh, we're leading with the injury excuse this time? This is new." He had to steady his friend as he swayed on his feet. "I'll buy it though. Sorry about your partner, man."

Mac shook his head. "Former partner. Didn't deserve a trial anyways."

Don nodded and looked up at the waiting car. "Your current partner might not let you have a trial either."

"I think you're right." Mac smiled.

"I'll tell her to go easy on you. Loud southern accents make your head worse or somethin'."

"Redirect her anger at you. I like it."

Don just grinned as he reached for the back door, motioning for Mac to take the front, right next to Jo who was driving.

Mac hesitated. "You're actually going to hang me out to dry like this?"

"You deserve it." Flack shrugged.

With a sigh Mac slid into the front seat. He did his best not to look at Jo, but when the car remained idling next to the curb, he cast a cautious glance in her direction. Her face was almost unreadable. He was too tired to try and decipher it anyways. "Can we not, Jo?"

"Later." She agreed, seeing his battered condition and hearing the exhaustion in his voice.

Mac settled deeper into the seat, feeling his heavy eyelids start to close. Yes, Jo would rip him apart later, but as Stella's words echoed through his head, he found he didn't mind so much.

"_Marry her, Mac!"_

Mac smiled despite himself. Yep, Stella was still just as bad at relationships as ever.

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><p>AN: And there it is. I'm open for requests on future tags, just drop me a review and let me know. Thanks!


	2. Cold Reveal 3x22

A/N: So I was going to work on the request I got for this one, but then I watched Cold Reveal (3x22) again and I had to write something. The ending makes me want to cry...Well, then this started going in all different directions and this is how it ended up. It's probably confusing. Basically, Stella and Mac both had really crappy days and it takes some time for them to realize the other person may have had one too. Little bit of Peyton/Mac, because they're dating during this season, and I like continuity and think they were a cute couple. However, there's room to interpret it however you want. That's a bone for the "SMacked" people out there.

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><p>"Hey, Mac."<p>

"_Detective Taylor!"_

"You okay? ...Mac."

He flinched at the hand on his shoulder. It immediately withdrew in response. "Sorry." The owner of the hand instead pulled up a chair and Don Flack sat in front of him, cautiously studying him. "I was heading out when I heard. You okay?"

"_I'll never find her."_

Mac gave a single nod as he stared at his hands. They had only just stopped shaking. His fingers continued discretely fidgeting.

"Scagnetti says you're not pressin' charges." Don said softly as he leaned his elbows on his knees.

"_Because of you, I will never find her."_

"No." Mac replied, unconsciously shifting away from his friend.

Don had noticed. He sat back, running a hand over his mouth. "Well, that may count for something, Mac, but the man was waving around a gun on a crowded street."

"_He knew where she was."_

Mac finally lifted his eyes to meet Don's. "He just wants to know where his daughter is."

"And I feel for the guy, I do, but the fact is he was planning to kill you."

"_But _you_ killed him, and I'll never find my daughter."_

Mac looked away again. "I'm not pressing charges."

Don threw up his hands in surrender. "Okay then. John says you're free to go. You want a ride?"

Mac shook his head as he got to his feet. His weak knees barely held his weight. "I need to walk."

Don hesitated. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"How many more desperate fathers you think I'm gonna run into because they blame me for Dobson?"

"Mac, that's not what I-." But Mac was already gone, down the front steps of the precinct and out into the night.

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><p><em>Mac swallowed, but his heart kept hammering in his throat. "There are innocent people on the street. Ju-." His voice caught as he watched the man's hand twitch on the trigger. "Just hand me the gun and we can talk about whatever you wa-."<em>

"_Don't move!" _

_Mac jumped back, the words like a physical blow to chest, leaving him breathless. His body didn't even feel like his own as the adrenaline coursed through his system, making his limbs feel like lead and Jell-O at the same time. _

"_L-Lilly." The man sobbed, his thumb shifting on the grip. "She looked just like those other girls that Clay Dobson killed."_

"_You believe he took her too." He forced himself to say in a controlled tone. The man was unstable. Mac's appearance of calmness would hopefully help to level him out. _

"_Now that he's dead, I'll never get her back. Because only he knows- only he knows where he buried her." The tears came freely now. His shoulders shook with the sobs, but his gun remained firmly aimed at Mac. "You- you took that from me. I'll never find my Lilly." The gun lowered, the father's grief too much to even hold himself up anymore. "I will never be able to say goodbye." Metal clattered against the sidewalk as the man sunk to his knees.  
>"My baby's dead!... Oh, Lilly."<em>

_Mac carefully stepped forward to secure the weapon as the man's wails echoed across the now deserted sidewalk. _

_He wasn't prepared as the man suddenly leapt to his feet and shoved Mac to the ground. The man stood over him, gun in hand, pointed straight at his heart. _"I'm taking you with me."

_BANG!_

Mac felt himself hit the floor as his eyes snapped open, met with nothing but blackness. He shakily pushed himself up to his hands and knees, his chest heaving in an attempt to feed his racing heart. His arms gave out and he fell sideways, his shoulder crashing into something hard, preventing him from hitting the floor again.

Mac drew his knees into his chest as he leaned into the object. He screwed his eyes shut, trying to get control of his breathing, but his chest felt tight, restricting the amount of oxygen getting to his lungs. Mac gripped his hair with both hands, trying to keep his hold on reality as the dream repeated itself in his mind. Not a dream… he realized. Except for the last moments, including Clay Dobson's final words, that's exactly what had happened mere hours ago.

A sudden beam of light shone from beyond his eyelids and Mac immediately scrambled to his feet, hand going straight to his hip as he spotted someone standing in his now open door. He could only make out a silhouette as light from the hallway cast the person into shadow.

"Mac?" A female voice called carefully. Stella.

Mac snapped his gun back into place with a shaking hand as his heart resumed its pounding. "Stella…" He replied breathlessly. "What…are you…?"

Instead of answering, she flipped on the overhead light, forcing Mac to shut his eyes and duck his head. "I heard something fall in here. I thought you had left. What were you doing?" She added, noting his uncharacteristically disheveled appearance.

"I fell asleep," Mac answered, slowing opening his eyes as they adjusted to the sudden brightness, "On the couch." He winced as a breath hitched in his throat.

"Sleeping? Or running a marathon?" She asked. Great, Stella was in a bad mood. He wasn't in the mood either.

He only had the energy to shoot her a look. "What are you doing here?" He asked again.

She folded her arms across her chest, returning the same look. "I kind of had a long day." She explained in a clipped tone. At his look of complete confusion, she went on. "Valens…"

Mac nodded. He'd completely forgotten. He made his way over to the couch where he sat heavily, finally feeling like his heart was returning to a normal rhythm. "How'd that go?"

"Not great, but it's over." Usually, he would have heard the undertone of pain there. Only he wasn't paying attention.

"Good." Mac nodded again before dropping his head into his hands, forcing himself to take deep breaths. He felt the couch move as Stella sat beside him.

"What's going on?" She asked suddenly.

"What?" Mac asked, turning his head to look at her.

"Look, Mac, I know the case and this hearing have gotten to you, but the way you've been acting lately…"

Mac shook his head. "Stella, not now."

"Like that." She snapped. "Yelling at Adam was one thing, going after Dobson alone something entirely different. I know you've got a lot on your plate, but you haven't even asked about-." She was cut off by the sound of her phone ringing, which Mac was grateful for. He'd heard and given himself the same scolding enough already. Getting it from a grieving father with a gun was about all the convincing he needed that he'd screwed up. Coming from Stella, sadly enough, it didn't mean much at the moment. "Bonasera." She answered, her tone conveying how much she appreciated being called this early in the morning. "Peyton?... Yeah, he's right here." Stella held out her phone. "You don't even call your girlfriend anymore?"

He didn't bother responding, just took the phone from her and rested his head in his other hand. "Hey."

"Mac! Thank heavens. Are you okay?" The familiar accented voice, although sounding slightly panicked, was a much more welcome tone than the accusatory one coming from the woman next to him.

"Yeah, why?"

"Don called me, Mac." Peyton explained gently. "He told me what happened."

Mac sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course Flack had… "I'm fine, Peyton."

"Don't," she warned with only a slight edge to her voice. Mac bit his lip. Peyton had made a deal with him only a short month ago that severely restricted his use of the word 'fine', as it meant next to nothing when he used it except to brush her off. He'd promised himself and her not to do that. He'd been with her for almost a year and yet he still sometimes found it hard to open up to her. He loved her. She was the best thing to happen to him in years, but years of keeping himself closed off to others was hard to shake. He was trying. She knew it. Thankfully, that was all she needed.

"Reflex." He offered as his explanation, giving a small smile though she couldn't see it.

Peyton could still hear it in his voice. Her tone was much softer as she continued. "The truth, now. Are you okay?"

Mac squeezed his eyes shut, cursing the images that replayed across his closed eyelids. He took a minute to answer, feeling his heart start to pound again. "No." He finally said, barely managing to keep his voice under control.

"I'm coming to get you. You're at the lab?"

"Yeah… thank you."

"Of course, Mac. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Mac handed the phone back to Stella as he pressed his fingers into his eyes, trying to rid them of the sudden unwelcome wetness gathered there.

Stella was silent for a minute. "Are you okay?"

He cleared his throat and turned away from her. "Yeah."

"Did something happen?" Stella asked, the edge slowing leaving her voice.

Mac cast a sideways glance in her direction and then sat back, sinking into the couch. "Peyton's gonna come pick me up."

"What happened, Mac?" Stella demanded, her tone now laced with concern.

He considered not answering. Not only did he not wish to repeat the story as the memory ran fresh through his mind again, Stella clearly had other things on her mind. He suddenly felt a sharp pang of guilt on top of the near constant ache in his chest, present ever since that father had found him on the street. He knew the cold case investigation had been hard on Stella- brought back memories of her tough childhood. To deal with that so close to her HIV scare… and here he was, focused on his own problems.

"I'm sorry I didn't ask about your results."

Stella's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "What-?"

"That's what you were about to say, before the phone rang. I didn't ask you."

"Mac," Stella sighed, shaking her head, "It doesn't matter anym-."

"It does." He interrupted quietly. "I asked Adam. He told me. I meant to go to you after, but that's when we got the lead on Dobson…" Mac trailed off, not wanting those recently shelved memories on top of the ones currently haunting him.

"Why did you go to Adam first?"

Mac looked at his hands again. They weren't shaking at the moment, but his thumb and forefinger fidgeted, constantly rubbing together. "You know I'm not good at the comfort thing. I'm bad at giving it and bad at taking it. I just needed to know what to prepare for." He managed not to react as she placed a hand on his shoulder, her expression a mix of gratitude and sympathy.

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><p>It had taken Stella a while to realize that about Mac. He had always been guarded about his emotions, but he was usually willing to offer comfort to those around him, however uncomfortable it made him in the process. His was just a different kind of comfort. Sometimes it was the blatant hard truth, which while not exactly what grieving people wanted to hear, were the facts of the situation and that eventually brought an odd sort of closure. Other times, he just acted as a sounding board who might give a hug at the end. Most of the time, it was entirely unpredictable and sometimes not even recognizable. It had taken a while to get used to it, but she had begun to appreciate it for what it was. It was why she didn't mind that after shooting Frankie, Mac had sacrificed being with her to process the crime scene. It was his way to bring that closure to her, and in essence would be about the same as a hug and a shoulder to cry on from anybody else.<p>

Hearing that he had gone to Adam was something different coming from Mac. The fact that he had wanted to be able to offer some real traditional comfort to her meant more than anything else.

Mac Taylor accepting comfort or help was another story. Being with Peyton had opened Mac up to a world of emotional turmoil he wasn't comfortable being a part of at first, but ever so slowly, he had learned to live in it. He could actually reciprocate emotion with another human being and enjoy it. It had helped him be more open in general, but not enough.

It had always been hit and miss when Stella tried to help. The lighter stuff was easy, and Mac would even seek her out for help. However, problems with a deeper emotional aspect were not so cut and dry. He never lied to her, but he also never told the whole truth. He could spit back the police report of what had happened word for calculated, deliberate word, but try and ask him how it had affected him and she could either get absolutely nowhere or some semblance of the actual truth would come out. He always listened to her advice, sometimes even took it to heart, but she could never tell which it would be. All she could do was try.

"What happened, Mac?" She asked again, her voice soft.

Stella was completely shocked when he only hesitated for a moment before telling her everything. She listened quietly. Her hand remained on his shoulder, gently squeezing it whenever he faltered. As he finished, she noticed some of the tension in his muscles had eased.

"Mac…" Stella whispered, her forehead knit in concern as the guilt nearly ate her alive. "I'm so sorry. If I had known-."

He shook his head, and Stella noticed the newly resumed tremors in his hands. "No, you were right before, and I'm sorry."

Stella sighed. That wasn't exactly the point she was trying to get across. "You know it's not your fault. You didn't kill Dobson. That girl's life is not on you. None of them are."

"And yet it still doesn't make me feel any better about it." He balled his hands into fists, effectively halting the shaking.

That's when it finally hit her. It had been screaming at her the whole time, she just hadn't been paying attention, too occupied with her own problems. Mac didn't need advice, or anything else. He just needed someone to be there. Peyton obviously knew that. Stella had been too angry at him to realize it until now. Now, she knew just what to say.

"You're gonna be okay, Mac." It was a simple statement, but a powerful one. Throughout the years, it had been used often between them, and still, when all else failed, it worked. It acknowledged their current state- that yes, it hurts, it may not be fair, but eventually, things work out. And they always did.

Mac lifted his eyes to meet his friend's, a small smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. "Thanks."

Stella only smiled in return. At that moment, the office door swung open, permitting Peyton to rush inside. She was dressed in sweats and what must have been one of Mac's jackets. She had clearly been asleep before coming here. Mac rose to his feet and was immediately wrapped in her arms.

It was one definitely one of the cruelly unfair hugs that seemed to bid every emotion rise to the surface despite your best efforts. One of those hugs that anyone watching could tell probably involved tears or a very concerted effort to hold back tears because of the way the participants held each other longer and tighter than any normal hug would permit. Stella suddenly felt like she was intruding. Her part was over. She stood up from the couch.

Peyton turned her head to see Stella leaving and called after her. "Thank you, Stella."

She gave a simple nod as she left. She wasn't halfway back to her office when a hand on her arm stopped her. It was Mac. He looked momentarily at a loss for words. "Hey… you're gonna be okay, too."

Stella smiled. "I know."

They shared a brief hug before Mac pulled away. "Go home and get some sleep, please." He said, a spark of his usual self shining through as he gave her a stern look.

"Yes, Sir." She grinned. "Goodnight."

"Night." He smiled in return.

Stella watched Mac meet Peyton at the end of the hall. Their arms immediately went around each other again before they made their way to the elevator. Yes, she thought with a sad smile, they would be okay… eventually, they would all be okay.

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><p>AN: Stella might be a little jealous that she doesn't have a man... Maybe that's why she was so mean to me throughout this entire fic. Anyways, please leave a review and you can even offer suggestions. I'm looking for a lighter, happier tag to write if you have an idea.


	3. It Happened to Me 6x06

A/N: These things come to me randomly. So here's another one. Set after 6x06 when Mac tells Hawkes he has a spare room. I always wondered how that would have worked out... The part in italics is taken from the CSI:NY novel Blood on the Sun. It's not mine!

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><p>Sheldon Hawkes shifted through the teetering pile of fliers and rental magazines again, hoping if he managed to set his expectations a little lower, he would find something- <em>anything<em>- to suit his needs, and his budget. His last apartment had been a little out of his range, it was true. It would have been fitting if he were still a practicing doctor, living on a doctor's salary and not a civil servant's. He figured he had gotten too used to the life of an M.D. and found he wasn't as ready to leave behind the luxuries as he was the hardships.

It had only been a week since Mac Taylor had offered his spare room up, and yet Hawkes was already desperate for an apartment of his own. It wasn't that he wasn't grateful to Mac, it was just…awkward. He didn't like to take charity, and he didn't like to mix his personal life with work. In fact, he had always managed to find some excuse for why he didn't disclose his personal connection to a case, even when it threatened his job. The woman on the subway, the man in the park… Now that he thought about it, there was a lot Sheldon never told his fellow employees at the lab. For instance, why he became a CSI, or the fact that his sister was murdered. If the situation hadn't called for it, they probably still wouldn't know about his financial gaffe either.

He considered the people at the lab his family, and yet it didn't take much for him to shut them out of his life. One incident and he acted like an outsider, like they didn't want to or deserve to know about his life, when clearly, they did.

Sheldon looked up at the closed bedroom door and was hit with a sudden pang of guilt. His mother would have slapped him for being so rude. You don't accept charity and then close yourself off. He could hear her voice now, 'Get out of that room and say hi! Socialize!' Such words composed his teenage years. When you're working towards a medical degree, social life isn't high on the priority list. He'd had to work harder than most to get there, but he had… he suddenly realized that accepting charity made it possible. So why did he turn his nose up at it now? Because he had finally felt what it was like to support himself and not have to rely on anyone else? Possibly… It had felt good to be financially secure for once in his life. He certainly wasn't now.

Sheldon pushed away from the desk and pulled open the bedroom door. The apartment was dark. Sheldon had had the day off, but Mac was on call and had been pulled in early that morning. It was nearly 11. He had expected him to be home by now, but one could never be sure with Mac Taylor. The man was always working, even on his days off. Sheldon had been considering just going to bed- he had a day tour the next morning starting at 6 am- but decided to wait. He brought a handful of apartment fliers with him as he went out to the kitchen table. There was a nice armchair in the living room up a short flight of stairs, but that seemed to be Mac's favorite chair and felt like he would be intruding-even more than he already felt like he was-to think that he could sit in it too.

The apartment was nice, classy, if not classic. Most of the decorations were either science or military-related or both. Most of them were books, though there were a number of interesting pieces, including a signed football and a few antique-looking contraptions. What struck Sheldon as odd was the complete lack of anything suggesting he'd ever been married before. There wasn't even a wedding picture, or a portrait of his wife anywhere. It looked like Mac's wife made about as much of an appearance in his own home as she did at work. Sheldon didn't like to share his private life, but it didn't look like his boss even had one.

He considered Mac his friend, but how much did he actually know him? The man was an enigma, even more so than Hawkes himself. The only people who he believed actually knew Mac were Stella, who had known him longer than anybody else, and, oddly enough, Lindsay. The feisty Montanan had jumped in and surprised everybody with her knowledge of Mac Taylor. The rest of them had worked with him for years before her and had never figured out as much as she had in a few months. Sheldon still found it hard to believe that the stoic detective played bass guitar every Wednesday.

It wasn't long before he heard the turning of the lock and Mac dragged himself through the door. Sheldon immediately knew it had been one of _those_ days at the office despite the half-smile his boss was giving him. "Hey, Hawkes."

"Mac," Sheldon nodded in greeting. "How's life at the lab?"

Mac hesitated halfway through removing his jacket and grimaced. "Uh, fine." Which meant it was anything but. "Looking for an apartment?" Deflection. Classic Mac.

"Yep." Sheldon nodded. "I'd forgotten how much I hated the process."

Mac offered a smile as he passed by. "No hurry, you know that."

"Thanks, Mac." Sheldon smiled. He watched in confusion as his boss tiredly put on a pot of coffee. "Don't you have a day shift tomorrow?"

The detective gave a small laugh. "Yes. I've got work to do though."

"Isn't that what going to work tomorrow is for?" Sheldon asked, one eyebrow cocked in confusion.

Mac only gave him one of his looks, the one that warned "I'm tolerating you now, but push it, and I become your boss again."

Sheldon would have pressed the issue, but chose to let it go. It wasn't exactly his place to give medical advice to his boss. Old habits… The man always looked exhausted. At first, Sheldon had naively assumed it was because Mac worked himself to the bone every day. Over the years, through observation, rumor- mostly originating from overhearing conversations between Stella and Lindsay- and from working side by side with Mac's ex-girlfriend, Peyton, it had become clear that there was a deeper problem. Mac Taylor simply didn't sleep. He could only guess why. He had a suspicion the problem had started after the death of his wife.

Sheldon wasn't sure if Mac even knew this- they had barely started working together at this point- but they were testifying in the same case on the same day, only a few brief months after 9-11. The defense lawyer, desperately trying to find any reason to dispel solid evidence, had decided that going after Mac's mental state was the best way to do that. Even though he didn't know the detective well, Sheldon had cringed as he watched the lawyer tearing into the man. Looking back on it now, and realizing what a private person Mac was, it just seemed all the more unfair. But Mac, being Mac, had sacrificed his own reputation for the sake of honoring his oath.

"_Your wife died on 9-11?"_

"_She did."_

"_You had a breakdown?"_

"_A short period of clinical depression. Like most people."_

"_Are you still depressed?"_

_There was only a brief moment of hesitation. "I'm still depressed."_

Somehow the line of questioning devolved into Mac's mental state causing him to force the evidence to prove his now twisted version of the world.

While Mac had answered in his usual stoic calm, the pain behind his eyes spoke volumes. When the reduced sentence for the wife-murdering defendant was revealed, the guilt weighed so heavily on Mac, he'd actually shown emotion for a brief moment before the walls slammed down again. They still saw that lawyer sometimes, and Mac still refused to shake his hand.

Despite depression or insomnia, or whatever it was that Mac had, Sheldon had a feeling that the detective somehow egged it on- exacerbated the situation. It had been nearly 10 years and Mac still only mentioned his wife on the rarest of occasions, becoming as close to openly emotional as anyone would ever see. It still took him 4 years to remove his wedding ring. If Sheldon were a psychologist- and he was anything but- he was sure the fact that Mac's apartment was void of any sign of his wife, coupled with the self-destructive tendencies including coffee at midnight, would mean something significant.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Sheldon. Just a week ago, Mac had given him the open invitation to tell him anything and to have Mac listen as a friend, and not a boss. Sheldon had brushed him off, shoved it back in his face even. He was certain he'd insulted Mac in the process, essentially telling him his trust and friendship meant nothing to him. Even so, Mac had turned right around and offered up his home. And here Sheldon was, scrutinizing the private life of his boss- and he meant boss. Sheldon wasn't sure he himself qualified as a friend lately.

"Hey, Mac?" He called.

Mac, who had been staring off into space while he leaned against the kitchen counter, seemed to have forgotten there was someone else in the room.

"I told you thank you for this, right?"

Mac smiled, one of those characteristic half smiles that seemed to be all anyone could get out of him. "Multiple times, Hawkes."

"What about sorry?" Sheldon asked with a slight grimace of embarrassment.

The detective looked thoughtfully confused. "Why would you be sorry?"

"At the precinct, I brushed you off. You've only tried to be a friend through all this and I haven't been. So I'm sorry."

Mac let out a sigh as he slowly ambled over to the table and sat across from Sheldon. "You don't need to apologize. I understand. It's hard. You have to admit something's wrong, not only to someone else, but to yourself." He let out a dry laugh as he ran his hand down the back of his head. "It's much easier to offer help than to accept it."

"And that's why we're cops…and doctors." Sheldon nodded, smiling. "It's definitely humbling on the other side."

Mac only let out a long breath in reply.

After a few seconds silence, Sheldon spoke again. "Mac," He licked his lips, hesitating. Mac was still staring at the table. "Why don't you just go to sleep?"

Mac didn't look up, but a small smile played across his face. "That would be the question."

"Mind if I offer some medical advice?" Mac finally lifted his eyes, his expression almost amused. Sheldon went on. "Coffee isn't going to help."

Mac broke into a genuine smile, laughing softly. "You're right. It's not." Sheldon just raised his eyebrows questioningly. Mac reluctantly continued. "I figured I might as well be productive if I was going to be awake. Physically, I'd love to lay down and be done with it. Mentally, I don't wind down so easily. With coffee they can both function on the same level until it wears off."

"You do this every night?"

His boss shook his head. "No. Just one of those days." He shrugged. Mac looked up to see Hawkes still studying him in that thoughtful silent way only Hawkes could. "I'm not a patient, Sheldon." He reminded him with a small smile.

Sheldon nodded, smiling in defeat. "Yes. Sorry… Can I be your friend real quick then?"

Jaw shifting, Mac looked like he was regretting the whole friendship thing at the moment. "Of course."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

This had definitely not been what Mac was expecting to hear. He cast his eyes to the ground, biting his lip. Finally, after a few seconds, he looked up, "Thanks, Sheldon, but … there are some things you just can't help."

"Maybe…" Sheldon shrugged. "But I can try." He stood up and walked past a wary looking Mac and into the kitchen where he promptly unplugged the coffee machine. "Lying down greatly increases your chances of being able to sleep. I think you should take that route."

Mac stared at Sheldon in disbelief, and for a moment the former M.E. was afraid he'd be sleeping on the street that night. Then Mac's expression slowly melted into something between amusement and exasperation. He kept an eye on Hawkes as he slowly stood from the table, pushed his chair in and disappeared around the corner. A few seconds later, Sheldon heard Mac's bedroom door shut.

Sheldon Hawkes smiled proudly to himself as he shut off the kitchen light and made his way into his own temporary room.

Mac was right. Offering help was much easier.

* * *

><p>AN: That was actually really fun. Leave a review, pretty please! I love suggestions.


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